


Indulgence

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: I mean this is filth, Makeup, Multi, PWP, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, absolute filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trott looks to find Smith staring, mouth open and eyes wide, at Ross.</p><p>“Hey, Smith,” Trott says, but there’s no response.</p><p>“Mate?” Ross says tentatively, and Trott watches as Smith’s eyes follow Ross’ lips.</p><p>Without warning, Smith pounces on Ross, knocking him back onto the bed, dropping kisses and bites along the line of his throat.<br/>~IRL Hatsome AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

“Hold still.”

“Trott, I look stupid.”

“I said hold still!”

“Smith’ll laugh at me.”

“He won’t if he knows what’s good for him.”

“...Since when has Smith known that?”

Trott tsks, brushing his right hand through the fringe of hair on Ross’ forehead. “Don’t mind him, sunshine, he’s just a prick.”

Ross’ lips drop into a pout, and Trott pulls his left hand away from Ross’ cheek. “Love, if you keep moving I’ll mess up, and then you’ll _really_ look stupid.”

A heavy sigh escapes Ross’ lips, but he holds still obediently, allowing his eyes to drop shut against the sensation of Trott’s delicate touch.

Trott swipes the soft brush across the other man’s cheek a couple more times, then draws back to observe him, a thoughtful frown gracing his face.

The blush isn’t meant to do much more than brighten his face; Ross’ face doesn’t really need much contouring. But the spots of dusty pink give his face a sweet glow, and the touch of silver on his eyelids contrast sharply with his dark eyelashes. Trott smiles, and leans in to drop a kiss on Ross’ forehead.

“Mmph,” says Ross.

“Just one more sec, love,” Trott says, and turns to the cabinet to find the last touch.

He flicks open the lipstick once he finds it, swatching it quickly on his own arm. Yes; light pink. Too light for him, but perfect for Ross. He leans in and drops his right hand on Ross’ lower cheek, allowing his slight flinch, and then slowly moves his left hand up to press the lipstick tube against Ross’ lips.

Ross allows his lower lip to drop open, just enough to help with the application, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Good job holding still,” Trott murmurs under his breath.

Finally, he finishes to his satisfaction, and pulls back. “Okay, Ross, all done.”

Ross blinks his eyes open. “It’s heavy,” is the first thing he says, and Trott laughs.

“You get used to it pretty quick. Promise.”

“Can I see myself?” Ross asks.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Trott says, and fetches the handheld mirror from the cabinet beside him.

He hands it to Ross, and sits beside him on the bed as the other man methodically assesses his appearance.

“My lips sparkle.”

“Yeah, I went with brightening your face. Your eyeshadow’s got shimmer, the lip has just got a little sheen to it; I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘sparkle’, though.”

“If you say so,” Ross murmurs, tilting his head from one side to the other.

“What do you think?” Trott asks, and Ross sets the mirror down on his lap. He shifts just enough to face Trott.

“I like it? It’s still kind of weird, though.”

Trott smiles. He lifts his hand up to stroke Ross’ cheek. “I’m glad you don’t mind. You look beautiful.”

Ross’ breath catches, and his eyelashes flutter as Trott’s gaze stays fixed on him.

And then the door slams open and Smith’s aggrieved voice sails into the room. “Who the fuck took my--”

Trott looks to find Smith staring, mouth open and eyes wide, at Ross. Ross shifts uncomfortably and shoots Trott an “I-told-you-so” glare.

“Hey, Smith,” Trott says, but there’s no response.

“Mate?” Ross says tentatively, and Trott watches as Smith’s eyes follow Ross’ lips.

Without warning, Smith pounces on Ross, knocking him back onto the bed. Trott laughs quietly as he watches Smith all but attack Ross’ neck, dropping kisses and bites along the line of his throat.

Trott turns over so he’s on his elbows, and nudges Smith to the other side of Ross’ neck. Smith obliges, taking no notice as he continues to dapple Ross’ skin with love bites. Trott trails his lips along Ross’ jaw, and when he reaches the lobe of his ear he closes his mouth around it, sucking hard and then giving him a little nip.

Ross mewls a bit helplessly and Trott pushes himself onto his elbows in order to reach the other man’s lips in a kiss. Smith pulls back to watch, eyelids hooded.

Trott can taste the slickery lipstick he’s just applied, and feels a flicker of regret that it’s going to be gone so soon. He tilts his head and presses his tongue against Ross’ lips, deciding to hell with it, if he’s going to smudge off all the lipstick he may as well do it in style.

Smith drops his hand onto Trott’s shoulder, kneading the muscle lightly. “Trott,” Smith whines.

The corner of Trott’s mouth curls up in amusement, but he only opens his lips against Ross’ hot, eager mouth. Trott bats his eyes open to watch Ross’ eyes fall shut at the feel and taste of him. A flicker of contentment unfurls within him: Ross’ eyes and the blush dusting his lips a reminder of the trust he has in Trott.

“C’mon, Trott,” Smith says, pushing at Trott’s shoulder.

Trott thinks about teasing Smith longer, but figures the other man’s had enough of this particular wait. He pulls back, leaving Ross’ lips in a pout, the lipstick smudged beyond the natural lines of his lips. The taller man blinks his eyes open, confused, but Trott only smiles at him and leans back.

Smith drops his hands on either side of Ross’ head, and bends down to capture his lips. Ross’ eyes fall shut once again.

Trott slides off the bed, stepping in behind Smith. His hands land on either side of Smith’s waist, and he smiles as the muscles tense and relax instinctively underneath his fingers. He tucks his fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt, and pushes it up to expose his lower back. Trott leans in, dropping light kisses like the brush of a butterfly’s wing along the bottom of Smith’s spine.

Smith lifts his head, and Trott hears Ross moan. He grins and takes a step back, quickly ridding himself of his clothes. Naked, he steps up behind Smith, pressing the entire length of his body along Smith’s back.

The taller man jumps mildly, and Trott knows Smith can feel his erection resting against the curve of his ass. Smith pushes back into him, lifting his lips from Ross to let out a long moan.

“Please,” Ross gasps then, and both Trott and Smith look up to see his face, etched with caged excitement. “Suck me off.”

Trott wraps his fingers around the lower hem of Smith’s shirt and yanks it over his head. The taller man obliges, then leans in toward Ross. Trott drops his hand on the nape of the other man’s neck, guiding him steadily forward.

“Fuck off, Trott,” Smith says, and Trott drops his hand. For now, anyway.

He drops to his knees behind Smith, no longer able to see what’s happening in front of him, and reaches around to undo Smith’s belt and trousers. He yanks them down to his knees, pants and all, then lays down. He flips over onto his back and pulls Smith’s hips back toward him until he can close his lips around the tip of the other’s erection.

Smith jerks his hips, and Trott hears a muffled exclamation from somewhere north of his head. He hears Ross groan, loudly, and figure that Smith’s got a mouthful of his own.

As he sucks at Smith’s cock, he reaches up with one hand gently slips his finger in between his asscheeks, stroking lightly at the other's entrance. Smith shifts his hips, squirming as best he can without dislodging himself or Trott. Trott feels the tight muscle quiver under the press of his fingers, and he'd smile if his mouth wasn't already stretched around Smith's arousal.

Then he manages to press his index finger into Smith’s entrance, and while the other bucks his hips a little too violently, he doesn’t protest. Trott hums around Smith’s erection and slowly pushes his finger inside of the other man. He’s never been able to wrap his mind around the fact that Smith enjoys the stinging pain that comes from being dry fingered - but he’ll be the first to admit that it’s pretty hot. He slides his finger back out and in, then nudges the tip of his middle finger at the ring of muscle.

And Smith’s cock is suddenly shoving back against his throat, all but choking him. He sucks in a deep breath through his nose as Smith pulls back and thrusts again. Trott has to take a moment to wrap his head around the fact that Smith is _facefucking_ him.

Well, fine, if that’s how he wants to play it. Trott pushes his middle finger to join his index, and thrusts with Smith’s movement against his own mouth.

A couple of thrusts later and Smith’s spilling his seed into Trott’s mouth, and Trott’s desperately trying to swallow it all. He’ll never admit it, but he prides himself on his cleanup.

When Smith finishes, Trott allows himself to fall back against the carpeted flooring, fingers still buried deep inside Smith as he mouths Ross’ cock.

But soon his own throbbing erection outweighs the desire to breathe through his free lungs, and he yanks his fingers out of Smith, unable to help a smile at the high-pitched noise the other makes. Trott wiggles out from between Smith’s legs, and when he stands, he has to wait for the sudden headrush to pass. He spends that time watching the twitch and pull of Ross’ abdomen, Smith’s eyes shut in what Trott might call bliss.

Then he hurries over to the cabinet to get the lube, over-aware of his bobbing erection, desperate for touch at this point. He hastily coats his erection with the lube as hurries back behind the kneeling Smith.

He doesn’t bother stretching Smith further, just lines himself up against the other’s ass and pushes until he’s buried deep inside him.

Smith’s squirrely, hips bobbing, and Trott wraps his hands around his sides to hold him flush against his own skin. He thrusts erratically, enjoying the pull of Smith’s hips as he tries, and fails, to match his movements.

Then Ross mewls, and Trott’s eyes are drawn back up to the man spread out on the bed. His arms are thrown out, grasping the duvet and twisting the fabric up as his hips roll with Smith’s movement.

Trott feels a familiar pull in his lower abdomen, and decides with determination that he’s not going to come before Ross. He leans forward, over the expanse of Smith’s freckled back, and presses the palm of his hand against the nape of Smith’s neck.

This time the taller man doesn’t protest, although Trott’s not sure if he wants it or if he’s just too distracted - but he pushes forward, forcing Smith to deepthroat Ross. Ross wails, high-pitched, and convulses in climax.

Trott’s grip on Smith’s neck tightens, and his body curls inward as he jerks his hips forward one more time, come shooting inside of Smith.

The air is filled with quiet pants and little else until Ross lets out a breathless laugh. “Trott, you’ve gotta do my makeup more often.”

“Fuck that,” Trott says, voice raspy. “Figure it out yourself. I’m not putting eyeliner on you every time you want Smith to suck your dick.”

“Trott, my ass hurts.”

“Quit whining,” Trott says, but pulls out of the other man, movements slow. He presses his fingers against his entrance, gentle, testing, and Smith lets out a little whine. “You’re not bleeding, you’re fine, mate.”

Trott stands and walks up beside the bed, where Smith’s head is resting on Ross’ thigh. There’s come lining his mouth and in his beard, and when Trott turns to Ross he sees that his eyeliner or mascara, either one, has smudged, giving him raccoon eyes. He lets out a short laugh, putting his hand up to his temples, and says, “You two are a goddamn mess. Fine, I’ll run a bath, Smith, sorry about your ass. Ross, here’s the part where you learn about makeup removal.”

“I wanna sleep,” Ross protests.

“Too bad,” Trott says. “Anyway, the tub’s big enough for two, Ross, doesn’t that sound nice?”

“What about you?” Smith asks.

Trott grins. “Do you think I need to be in with you two to have my own fun? Now get up, hustle, I want us all to be cleaned up by dinner.”

“That’s two hours away!”

“I know.” Trott turns and leaves the room, smiling as he hears the others scrambling to their feet behind him.


End file.
